he autumn night deepened, yet a gentle glow still lit the small kitchen of Tingyu Pavilion.
Qing Tian stood by the stove, a silver spoon moving slowly in her hand as she stirred the softly bubbling soup inside a small clay pot. Chicken breast had been patiently pounded into an impossibly fine paste, then simmered with freshly harvested sweet chestnut purée in a clear, carefully skimmed chicken broth. The air was filled with a rich, comforting fragrance—warm and mellow—where the sweetness of chestnuts mingled perfectly with the savory depth of chicken. In the cool autumn night, it was irresistible.
She scooped up a small spoonful, blew on it gently, and was just about to taste—
Creak.
The half-closed wooden door of the kitchen was pushed open from outside.
Thinking it was Chun Tao or Little Li Zi, Qing Tian didn't even turn around. "Is the fire too weak? Just add two more pieces of thin wood—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Something felt wrong.
That push of the door was too steady, too unhurried. It lacked the caution or briskness of an ordinary palace servant.
She spun around.
In the dim, yellow light stood a man at the doorway. Dressed in indigo casual robes, his figure was tall and straight. His features were half-hidden by light and shadow—but those eyes, calm and deep like an unfathomable pool, were unmistakable.
Emperor Tang Yi.
Why was he here?!
Tingyu Pavilion was remote and secluded. How could he appear here alone, late at night? Where was Gao Dequan? Where were the guards?
Qing Tian's mind buzzed violently. She hurried to kneel, her knee knocking into a low stool with a dull thud.
"Y–Your Majesty!" Her voice shook. "This concubine did not know of Your Majesty's arrival and failed to welcome you from afar. I deserve death!"
"Enough." Tang Yi lifted a hand. His voice carried obvious fatigue, though his gaze had already settled on the steaming pot before her."I just finished reviewing memorials. I was hungry. I smelled something good and followed it here."
He stepped into the kitchen, glancing casually around."What are you making this time?"
His tone was so relaxed—almost domestic—that it felt like an older brother wandering in for a late-night snack. Yet Qing Tian's heart was pounding like a war drum.
An emperor's movements—especially at night—were never decided on a whim. There was no such thing as simply following the smell.
Swallowing her fear, she forced her voice to steady."Replying to Your Majesty, this concubine is testing a dish called Chicken and Chestnut Cream Soup. The chicken breast is skinned and finely minced, mixed with freshly harvested sweet chestnut purée, then simmered slowly in clear chicken broth, finished with a light starch thickening. Autumn is dry—this soup is gentle and nourishing, well-suited for the season."
Tang Yi had already reached the stove. He looked down at the milky-white, glossy soup in the pot as warm steam rose to his face. The tension between his brows seemed to ease, if only slightly.
"Mmm. Smells good." He paused, then looked at her."Is there any ready? I'd like to try it."
Qing Tian's heart leapt violently.
Here? Eating food she'd just made—right here in the kitchen?
It was improper. And dangerous. If the flavor displeased him, or worse—she didn't dare finish the thought.
Yet the emperor's gaze was calm, carrying even a trace of genuine expectation, as if he truly were just hungry.
"Y–Yes," she answered quickly. Turning around, she lifted a covered white porcelain cup from a small charcoal stove nearby."I've just finished warming a small portion. It was meant for tasting tomorrow morning."
Using a clean cloth, she carefully poured the soup into a white porcelain bowl, added a small silver spoon, and offered it with both hands."Please be careful, Your Majesty. It's hot."
Tang Yi took it and remained standing by the stove, not bothering to find a seat. He scooped up a spoonful, blew on it lightly, and tasted.
The chicken paste was impossibly smooth, melting almost instantly on the tongue. The chestnut purée was sweet and velvety, wrapping gently around the savory richness beneath. The chicken broth was clear yet full-bodied, and the light thickening made the texture silky and soothing.
One spoonful slid down his throat, warming his stomach—and with it, the weariness of days spent buried in memorials and political battles seemed to quietly fade.
He didn't speak.
He took another spoonful.
Then another.
Soon, the small bowl was empty.
Tang Yi set the bowl down and let out a long, silent breath. The fatigue lingering between his brows visibly lightened. He raised his eyes to Qing Tian, who had been standing rigidly to the side, barely daring to breathe.
"Good craftsmanship," he said at last. His tone was still even, but there was something new in his gaze—scrutiny, curiosity, and a faint, almost imperceptible warmth."Why are you so afraid of me? And why does it always seem like you know… exactly what I need, at moments like this?"
Qing Tian's heart trembled. She lowered her gaze at once."This concubine is foolish. I only make things I feel suit the season and are good for the body. That Your Majesty does not dislike them is already my great fortune."
"It isn't random." Tang Yi interrupted softly.
His words weren't loud, yet they carried a weight that struck straight into her chest.
He took half a step closer. Qing Tian could now smell the faint scent of dragon incense on him, mixed with ink.
"Your Truth Noodles were telling me to see the essence beneath appearances. The snow pear and loquat syrup you sent days ago—you knew I'd been up late reviewing Huai River flood-control reports and my throat was unwell. This morning's calming poria cake…"
He paused, his gaze locking onto hers—deep, penetrating, as if stripping away every careful disguise she wore.
"And tonight's chicken and chestnut soup. Autumn dryness. These past few days, I've been coughing, with little appetite."
He spoke slowly.
"Everything you send to me… always arrives at exactly the right time."
Qing Tian looked up sharply, crashing straight into the emperor's all-seeing eyes.
She had always believed her quiet observations and thoughtful offerings were flawlessly concealed. Yet not only did he know—he remembered every single one, and the intention behind them.
An indescribable flood of emotion swept over her.
The shock of being seen through.The strange comfort of being understood.A fleeting, dangerous joy at being noticed—even if only through food.
And then, deeper still, unease and fear.
An emperor's heart was unfathomable. Was this understanding a blessing—or a curse?
"This concubine…" Her voice came out dry and weak."This concubine is only fulfilling her duty."